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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24928312">Hotter Than Apple Pie</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChillieBean/pseuds/ChillieBean'>ChillieBean</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Overwatch (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Ejaculation, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Food Sex, Happily Ever After, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Vaginal Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:01:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,550</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24928312</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChillieBean/pseuds/ChillieBean</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jesse and Ashe’s relationship could be described as volatile at best. They’re drawn to each other like magnets, opposing forces who can’t keep apart. They were side-by-side from the moment they laid eyes on each other. <i>Ride or die</i> was their motto, from pickpocketing rich assholes to running in headstrong into the fray.</p><p>They laughed, they fucked, and often left a trail of destruction in their wake. </p><p>Twenty years ago it was a string of heists.</p><p>Ten years ago it was a trashed hotel room.</p><p>A month ago it was a blown-up train.</p><p>Today… Today has been surprisingly civil. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe/Jesse McCree</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Rekindled</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was originally a spitefic pwp but it turned into something much, much more than that. I've written a lot over the last three years and there are only a small number of them that put a smile on my face when I think about them. This fic is one of them.</p><p>I hope you enjoy this beautiful little story as much as I enjoyed writing it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is surreal being in Ashe’s bed again.</p><p>Nothing has changed. From the smell of the fresh-cut roses sitting in a vase on her vanity table, to the row of little cacti along her windowsill, to the red silken sheets, cool against his heated body, <em> everything </em> is the same as he remembers from twenty years ago. Ashe always was a creature of habit, and he feels a bloom of warmth in his chest to see that things haven’t changed.</p><p>God, though, did he miss this. And it isn't just her things, despite spending many a lonely night wondering if her room changed with time. He missed Ashe herself. Jesse told himself, time and time again when he thought about her in the middle of the night, that he didn’t miss her. He didn't crave her smile, or the way the low sunset light framed her face, or the look on her face when she reached her climax, quivering and moaning with heavy-lidded eyes locked onto his.</p><p>But deep down, he really did. Some days were easy. He'd remember her little snort-giggle and it would put a smile on his face. But the hard days, where he wanted comfort, to feel her fingertips caress his face, or to feel her soft lips pressed against his forehead, to smell her perfume, he utterly <em> longed </em> for her. Those days he barely survived.</p><p>His heart ached for her, so much, so <em> strong</em>, that he lost count of the times he packed his stuff into a bag with the intention of leaving everything behind to be in her arms once more.</p><p>He never went through with it, though. An annoying, a stupid, a <em> righteous </em> part of him knew that despite wanting Ashe, he didn’t want to be immersed in the life of crime again. Sure, there was that element of fun, planning heists and feeling adrenaline pumping through his veins after pulling one off without a hitch; nothing has compared since. But, the risk was too high. The fear he had of getting caught and locked up for real, of getting shot, of dying, of Ashe dying in his arms… things he never <em> once </em> talked about but were on his mind, every moment of every day. </p><p>But the nights spent worrying about a future he might not have paled in comparison to actually living his life. Those years with Ashe were the best he had. Sure, he’s had moments that came close during his time with Blackwatch, but there was so much shit that has since tainted his entire view of his years spent with Overwatch.</p><p>Before then, his late teens and early twenties… he can’t help but chuckle thinking about it now. His and Ashe’s relationship could be described as volatile at best. They’re drawn to each other like magnets, opposing forces who can’t keep apart. They were side-by-side from the moment they laid eyes on each other. <em> Ride or die </em> was their motto, from pickpocketing rich assholes to running in headstrong into the fray.</p><p>They laughed, they fucked, and often left a trail of destruction in their wake. </p><p>Twenty years ago it was a string of heists.</p><p>Ten years ago it was a trashed hotel room.</p><p>A month ago it was a blown-up train.</p><p>Today… Today has been surprisingly civil. </p><p>Jesse didn’t have any intentions of seeing Ashe again after he liberated Echo. It was another moment he flew too close to the sun, and seeing her, hearing her say his name, the little shootout… it left more damage in its wake than he would ever admit. </p><p>Over his years away from her, each night spent thinking about her, wishing for her, <em> lusting </em> for her, that rational part of him would bury those feelings in a box. It became easier over time, even when they met up after Overwatch was disbanded, he made sure to not just lock that box but wrap it in chains and hide it as far down as he could manage.</p><p>But seeing her on that afternoon last month, he could feel the chains around that box slipping away, and no matter what he did to distract himself, he would come back to her. He <em> always </em> came back to her. He was drawn to her, like a moth to a flame, and no matter how much he wished, how much he <em> prayed </em> that he would forget her, he couldn’t.</p><p>Seeing her face to face was one thing, but that damned picture on her bike was another.</p><p>Originally, he was going to leave her bike somewhere conspicuous, call in with a tip and have her pick it up. He’d had his fun with it, tore up and down Route 66 with the wind in his hair and the sun beating down. It had been years since he rode a bike, and in that moment, riding Ashe’s brought him back to a simpler time when he was just some ratbag twenty-year-old who had the best right-hand woman and the southwest in the palm of his hand.</p><p>He thought he’d had his fill of her. He <em>told</em> himself he had his fill of her. But that picture on her bike changed his mind. </p><p>That picture was the key that unlocked the box buried deep in his mind, and all those good memories he had with her; of shared laughter, the thrill after a heist, all the times they were in bed, joined as one. It brought <em> everything </em> back to the surface and he didn’t realise just how much he <em> missed </em> her.</p><p>But most of all, it brought that night the picture was taken to the foreground. It’s one of his favourite memories, where instead of passing out drunk after celebrating a successful heist, they sat in a quiet corner of the room and enjoyed each other’s company. They talked for hours, it was the first time they truly acknowledged their feelings, that the sex was more than just physical. </p><p>It was the first time he told her he was in love with her.</p><p>He never truly stopped loving her, even during his time in Blackwatch and the years that followed. Even now. Overwatch forced them apart, a crime he will never truly forgive, but he had no other choice. There was a very real possibility that she would be thrown in jail and never see the light of day, so he fell on his sword for her, spared her that sorry excuse of a life by taking the blame for all of it.</p><p>Gabe allowed him one last goodbye, but Ashe was ropeable. Sure, she was pissed that he was leaving, but the majority of her vitriol was directed at him erasing the work <em> she </em> put into the gang. He let her say what needed to be said, he held her as she sobbed. His heart broke in two, but he told her that she could continue, that she could take the tattered remains of the club and turn it into something that was truly hers, to live the life she always wanted. That he would do his damndest to keep her off Overwatch’s radar for as long as possible, because she <em> deserved </em> life, and his was over the moment the Crisis happened and left him orphaned.</p><p>They made a pact in that final moment, that the <em> second </em> his time was served that he would be back by her side and they’d pick up right where they left off. As the months went by, he spent his time counting every single minute of every single day and being the most spiteful little shit to everyone who crossed his path. But they were all so patient with him. Undeservedly so—if <em> he </em> had to deal with a 22-year-old piece of trash day in and day out, he’d have shipped them out before he could say <em> shut the fuck up</em>.</p><p>What he didn’t anticipate was that over time, over the years, he would change. There was something <em> good </em> he felt in his chest working on the right side of the law. It gave him a purpose, a sense of duty he wouldn’t have otherwise experienced being co-leader of a gang. Sure, he was covert ops, and he dabbled in some truly illegal shit, but in the end, it was for the greater good. He treated Blackwatch like a prison sentence, counting down the days until he was back in Ashe’s arms, but when it was all said and done, he wanted nothing more than to see the world on his own terms. </p><p>He still had a soft spot for Ashe, and despite the time apart he never fell out of love with her. But the gang life wasn’t something he was interested in anymore. He couldn't see himself in the middle of gunfights, and the thought of having his ass hauled to prison for real made his skin crawl. He had grown as a person, and he knew that Ashe would understand. </p><p>When his time with Overwatch came to an end, he followed through on that pact they made almost a decade before. He met up with her as they had always planned, not to join her again, but to tell her that he was done with the outlaw life. </p><p>God, meeting up with her after all those years was the most nervous he’d ever been in his life. Seeing her face was like seeing the sunrise at the Grand Canyon, and now, even now, sitting in her bed as he waits for her, he can still feel that anticipation, that bubbling of happiness and joy and relief that he had served his time. She was the light at the end of the tunnel and all he had to do was race towards her.</p><p>They met in a bar, he saw her from across the room. He pushed past <em> so many </em> people, he’s sure he knocked a pool table along the way, but he didn’t care. He rushed over and kissed her like it was his last day on earth. It was a kiss that sewed up their years apart. </p><p>He knew, though, that it wouldn’t last. In the very public space of that bar, he told her his thoughts about his next stage of life. He expected a meltdown, but Ashe took it rather well. She shrugged it off, invited him back to a hotel, and the very moment that door was closed she jumped him. They fucked—it was intense, it was <em> years </em> of missed opportunities, cultivated into one alcohol-fuelled night that resulted in a bed that was less sturdy when they were done and sheets stained to high heaven.</p><p>But what came after was something Jesse hadn’t anticipated. He expected Ashe to beg him to stay, that slotting him back into the club would be easy, that they could pick up where they left off. He would tell her no, of course, but he wanted that banter. He wanted to see just how hard she would fight for him to stay.</p><p>She didn’t.</p><p>She didn’t say <em> anything </em> other than the room was paid for one more day, and to message her if he wanted to hook up again. There was no goodbye kiss, there was no begging him to stay, there was <em> nothing </em> but a twisted, wicked smile and a kiss blown from her hand.</p><p>Ashe had moved on. </p><p>Ashe had moved on and his heart couldn’t take it. His time in Overwatch might have changed him into a better man but he was hit with blow after blow, to the point where thinking about his time there <em> now </em> makes him angry. <em> Everyone </em> he ever cared about left him—Ana, Gabe, Mina… <em> none </em> of them are here now. <em> All </em> of them are gone.</p><p>And then, after all that shit and misery, Ashe left him.  </p><p>Anything that wasn’t bolted down in that room was destroyed. As he sat in the aftermath, sobbing and shaking and unable to breathe as he rode that anxiety attack, he made damn sure that this chapter of his life was closed, that it was done and dusted and that he would <em> never </em> think about Ashe again. Never see her, never <em> lust </em>for her.</p><p>His heart couldn’t take it. </p><p>Days turned into weeks, months into years. As much as he tried to forget Ashe, he couldn’t. His heart was ripped into a million pieces, and seemingly no amount of time would mend it. The days grew easier, and while it was impossible to not let himself wonder how she was doing, he didn’t end up a teary mess at the thought of her. He reached a point where he could keep tabs on her—he had the means to get her out of legal trouble if she ever found herself in it but she was smart; she had the local police department, ATF agents, and councillors in her back pocket. She protected her territory, she kept the peace between gangs in the area, but most importantly, she kept civilians safe if trouble <em> did </em> start brewing. She didn’t <em> need </em> him looking over her; she had it all under control. </p><p>Ashe is fiercely independent. She always was, she made the strategic decisions, she had a greater plan for the club even when he was by her side. She sought his guidance, of course, he was the one with the gang background after all, but he sat back and watched her work. While she was set on this path because they met, he has no doubt in his mind that she would have ended up here with or without him. </p><p>And <em>that </em>thought stung more than he would ever care to admit.</p><p>Approaching the ten-year mark since that night in the hotel, he wasn’t thinking about her all that much. He could say that, while that moment she turned her back on him still made his heart wrench, he was numb to it. That chapter was truly done and dusted—he could do the things he wanted to do, like travel the world in his own time, wax poetic about the places he visited, the things he did and food he ate to pass the time. It was menial but he enjoyed it, he enjoyed the solitude, he enjoyed being able to shut off from news reports and just live and breathe without worrying about a partner or his team.</p><p>Occasionally he'd dabble in the mercenary world, just to shed lingering hints of anger and anxiety. He'd thwart robberies, he'd chase Talon leads if the opportunity presented itself—<em>especially </em> if it meant saving innocent lives. It was good to keep his skills sharp, and despite loving the quiet life, doing something thrilling took out the moments of monotony. </p><p>Then he received the recall. He watched Winston's message and immediately noped out of it. There was <em> no way </em> he would go back to Overwatch, no matter how noble their cause is. Blackwatch might have made him a better man, but it made him a lonely one; a man who spends Christmas getting wasted in some back alley bar in Mexico because the thought of being with people <em> sickens </em> him, because they too will eventually leave.</p><p>He knew though, that there would be someone who would be crucial to helping this new Overwatch get off the ground, and he was the only one with knowledge of her activation chip. Freeing Echo would be the easy part of the plan, getting her off that military base and in a position where he could grab her was harder. He tried his hardest to fight the urge but he knew of one person who would be vital for this to go off without a hitch.</p><p>Ashe.</p><p>It took some serious hacking from a certain purple-haired, sharp-tongued acquaintance, but he managed to get Echo off that base and into transit. The tip-off was easy, Ashe taking the bait was a gamble but it paid off. In the days leading up to the heist, he checked in on her. Ashe had cut her hair, she looked more fierce than he’d ever seen her. She had moved on—he thought at the very least—so dropping in, playing her game and using her to his advantage would be easy. The Ashe she is now wasn't the Ashe she knew once upon a time, and all it did was reaffirm that what they had belonged in the past. </p><p>On that fateful day, everything was going according to plan. Seeing her face-to-face was fine. Speaking with her was fine. The shoot-out was fine. She missed her shots but so did he. They didn’t want to hurt each other and that’s what their relationship has always been. Everything after—knocking her out, sending her on her way, freeing Echo—it all felt right because he was doing it for the greater good. Ashe wasn’t hurt—he made sure of that—so there was no weight on his conscience.  </p><p>But the picture. That <em> fucking </em> picture on her bike was the key that unravelled everything. </p><p>He couldn’t help but spend <em> hours </em> looking at it. From the fact that it had been torn but put back together, that she kept it on her bike, of <em> all </em> places—somewhere close, somewhere she could look at it wherever she went. </p><p>She had that picture this entire time, of that night where she told him she loved him, and it went everywhere she went after all these years. </p><p><em> Twenty fucking years</em>.</p><p>After <em> everything </em> they had been through, the raid that sent him to Blackwatch, leaving her as she sobbed, meeting up in that bar for a night of sex, she still had it. After everything <em> she </em> had been through—the turmoil of being so angry and <em> hurt </em> that she had torn it up and then, <em> then </em> putting it back together… the weight of everything, her growth, those lost decades, came crashing down on him. </p><p>She was in a place where she looked at it for the<em> good </em> memory it was. It <em> meant </em>something to her. </p><p>He was hit with a tsunami of emotion—love and guilt and sorrow and joy. He <em> ached </em> for her. And fuck, wanted to fight it. He <em> begged </em> himself to fight it like every time before but <em> finally, </em> his heart won out. He’d paid his dues with Overwatch, he’d done everything he wanted to in that decade since the hotel room, and now, with it all behind him, he just wanted to settle. Putting the past behind him was something he <em> wished </em> for, something he told himself he had, but with Ashe— <em> Liz</em>, the woman who got away—he <em> knew </em> he’d always be yearning for her no matter how much he tried to bury those feelings. </p><p>It’s ultimately why he gave in. Maybe he’s weaker approaching mid-life, maybe he’s tired, maybe he’s wiser. He <em> can </em> see her, they can talk over dinner, they can fuck, if that’s all she really wanted. <em> He </em> wanted her. He <em> needed </em>her, and it surprised him that he didn’t resent that thought, that he didn’t recoil as he said the words aloud.</p><p>In that moment, he couldn’t help but imagine a scenario where they rekindled that love they shared. He might’ve been longing for a fantasy, but he could easily let her have her gang life while he lived his retirement and come together at night, leave the shop talk at the door, enjoy each other’s company and catch up on those missed years. He has <em> earned </em> his slice of life, why <em> shouldn’t </em> he share it with the woman who holds his heart in her hands.</p><p>And it didn't matter that she lived on the wrong side of the law. She only hurt those who deserved it, she protected her own. These days, the gang is more business than looting—trade negotiations and backroom deals. He has spent his entire life playing both sides and he’s tired of fighting. Besides, it’s not like he has a leg to stand on—<em>he </em> used <em> her </em> to blow up a train. He’s not exactly righteous himself.</p><p>It was wishful thinking that she would want to see him again so soon after the train heist. She sounded pretty pissed off, screeching his name when he tore past her, and has probably been in the shittiest mood since. But still, he extended that olive branch and was utterly tickled when she accepted. </p><p>She declared it a temporary truce, and he was more than fine with that. He <em> was </em> fine, up until he was standing out the front of her estate, feeling just as out of place as his seventeen-year-old self seeing her mansion for the first time. A tiny little nagging voice in his mind tried to convince him to walk away, that this was a mistake, that this could’ve been a trap and she really <em> was </em>going to have Bob rip off his other arm, but the mere thought of being in her company, seeing her face again, being able to touch her, smell her… he was sure his heart fluttered more than his stomach was.</p><p>With the keys to her hoverbike, the photo, and her favourite whiskey in hand, he knocked on the door. It felt like an eternity, but when she finally answered, seeing the scowl morph into a smile as she looked from his face to his hands brightened his entire world.</p><p>She invited him in and after apologising, they talked about the things they’ve done in the decades apart over a glass of that whiskey. She told him that she put so much focus on the club, to rebuild it, to maintain that status quo with the other gangs they had worked so hard on that she hadn’t even thought about sharing her life with someone. In these twenty years, when not focused on the club, all attention went on herself, and now, she’s in a place where she is happy where she is and with the people she surrounds herself with.</p><p>He told her about his travels and that he writes a blog. She was delightfully tickled by it and asked to see his entries but he told her a man has the right to a few secrets. She tried guessing his pen name but he successfully deflected her questions by mentioning a few funny stories from his Blackwatch days. She giggle-snorted at the time he had to race out of his room in his underwear as the safehouse was being raided, taking out a few grunts along the way. When he put on his Italian accent, he savoured the feeling of her weight pressed into his side as she laughed so hard she gasped for breath. </p><p>In that moment, he could feel the guilt and sorrow fade away. His heart was mending, those old wounds were healing.</p><p>When it was all over, when the laughter had died down and silence was left in its wake, she looked up at him with those gorgeous crimson eyes always got lost in, and he hardly recognised her. She might’ve been tough as nails back in the day, but now, she had to be invincible. Years spent alone were etched in the fine lines at the corners of her eyes and the wrinkles between her brows. They weren’t signs of age, no—they were battle scars, a war she fought and won and conquered, and her sitting on that very couch with him was proof of that.</p><p>They stared at each other for the longest time, not a single word was uttered. Just like years past, he was drawn to her. The air felt charged with electricity, his stomach <em>and </em>his heart fluttered. Oh so achingly slowly he leaned in, savouring the feeling of his nose grazing against his cheek, of her breath caressing his lips. A kiss was how they rekindled a decade ago, and the anticipation of it was too much to bear. </p><p>When their lips met, it was like the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm. It was everything that was ever right with the world, those small, quiet moments they shared two decades ago that put a genuine smile on his face. The kiss was a slow, gentle thing, tentative and cautious after so long apart, but when she pulled away with that twisted, wicked smile on her lips and led him straight to her bedroom, he knew what was going to come next.</p><p>And, right this very moment, as he lies in her bed for the first time in two decades waiting for her, he can’t help but feel like he’s home. </p><p>Her room hasn’t changed at <em> all</em>. The smells, the look, <em> all </em> of it is the same as he remembers. His clothes lay folded on that high backed red velvet chair in the corner of the room. He sits up, his back rests against the headboard, and behind her vanity table, in the gap between the mirror and the counter, he can see the bad patch job from the stiletto-sized hole in the wall when they tried fucking standing up and her foot collided with the wall. </p><p>He cannot help but chuckle as <em> those </em> memories come flooding back, of the moment of terror, the stifled laugher that came after, the fact that they didn’t <em> stop </em> fucking after getting her heel out of the wall <em>or </em> to take off said heels so it wouldn’t happen again. It was risky not stopping—her parents were home and it was an absolute miracle that they didn’t hear them, considering they forbade him from stepping foot inside the house if they were there.</p><p>She always hid the patch with a vase or a photo frame, but the fact that it's no longer covered, that she can see it from her bed makes him think that she thinks about that moment. A <em> lot. </em></p><p>With a sigh, he floats back into the present when he hears the sound of cutlery clinking against ceramic. Whatever the hell Ashe is doing, she's in the kitchen, which is <em> odd </em> considering she told him to get undressed before she left the room.</p><p>He looks down at his bare chest, then the silken sheet pooled around his waist, the bulge from his cock, resting heavy against his thigh, eager and ready for Ashe. Whenever she’s fucking ready doing <em> whatever </em> it is in the kitchen— </p><p>He glances back at the doorway and his heart leaps into his throat. There she is, with that same smirk on her face, but she is decidedly <em> undressed </em> short of the lingerie she has on. Back in the day, she wore matching bras and underwear, but this, <em> this </em> takes it to a whole new level. </p><p>Black roses crisscross her body. They adorn her collarbone like a statement neckpiece, then they branch off down the middle, making their way between her breasts, curving under to settle on the right side of her ribcage. From there, it crosses her abdomen, finishing on her left hip. Thick black straps are visible around her shoulders and thighs, but sinfully, flowers branch off from the middle of her abdomen and continue downwards, drawing his attention to her pussy. </p><p>And on top of all that, she’s wearing nothing underneath the bodysuit—no bra, no underwear. </p><p>Jesse thought he was hard before. Now, he’s tenting the sheet.</p><p>Meeting her gaze, she looks at him with a fire burning in her eyes. In her hand is a plate with a large slice of apple pie, the scintillating aroma of cinnamon and pastry fills the room. </p><p>Ashe stalks over, flicking the sheet off him. Her gaze settles on his cock and her smile grows wider, but she doesn’t say anything, not as she climbs on top of him, not as she <em> frustratingly </em> settles in his lap <em> without </em> sinking down on him. His cock rests against her ass though, and every single movement she makes to get comfortable causes it to twitch. </p><p>Licking her lips, she scoops some pie onto the spoon and offers it to him. He leans forward, opening his mouth and she spoons it in. Slowly chewing, he utterly savours the spiced apple and the hint of chilli on his tongue. This isn’t any ordinary apple pie, no, this is the same diner pie recipe, and the nostalgia hits him like a slap in the face.</p><p>Countless memories flood him as she eats some of the pie, as she offers him another piece. Heists were planned over this same apple pie, he made this for her every time she came down with a cold. This pie was <em> their </em> pie, something to make a bad day good, a peace offering after they had a fight. It was something he hadn’t had in the twenty years he was away, and he utterly savours every bite.</p><p>This <em> moment </em> will forever be etched into his memory. Of her, sitting on his lap in the sexiest piece of lingerie he’s ever seen, with his dick resting against the cleft of her ass, as he feels a drip of pre dribble down the length of his cock. He eyes her up and down, utterly drinks her in and questions every single decision he ever had to not come back. He scolds his past self telling him that leaving her was a good decision.</p><p>This. Her. He denied himself <em> her </em> for twenty fucking years. Two decades’ worth of missed smiles and cuddles and jokes and <em> fucking</em>. God, how missed this spark, this charged energy of being so utterly smitten by her, so <em> frozen </em> and <em> powerless </em> under her gaze that all he <em> can </em> do is watch her. No one has ever come close to making him feel like this, and he can’t even count how many people he’s been with.</p><p>“So, how is it?” Ashe asks, a quiet little murmur as she pulls the spoon from his mouth. With a smile, she swipes her thumb over his upper lip, he feels a crumb roll against his skin.</p><p>“Hot.”</p><p>Ashe huffs a laugh. “Me? Or the pie?”</p><p>“Both."</p><p>Ashe raises a single eyebrow. God, she's gorgeous like that.</p><p>"But you’re hotter than the apple pie.”</p><p>“Correct answer,” Ashe says, smirking playfully as she offers him more. This time, as she pulls the spoon away, she grinds in his lap with the slow sway of her hips. </p><p>He exhales, stuttered as he feels her wetness against his skin, but it's his cock is rubbing against her ass that’s getting him off the most. It snaps him out of his stupor, enough to move his hands and settle them on her thighs. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, his head tips back against the headboard as she lifts her hips and his cock slowly, <em> slowly </em> grazes against her crack.</p><p>And he <em> groans </em> when she settles back down onto his lap.</p><p>“Fucking tease,” he mutters, opening his mouth as she offers him more pie.</p><p>She doesn't respond in any way, her face is perfectly neutral, she doesn't say a word. Slowly and calmly, she rests the spoon on the plate beside the remaining half-slice. She stands on her knees, and in that split second he's sure he's ruined it and she's going to leave him, blue balls and all.</p><p>But when her hand wraps around his cock, he bites his lip. Her eyes are locked into his as she lines him at her entrance and she doesn't look away as she slowly, <em> slowly </em> sinks down. </p><p>She doesn’t react short of a slow, ragged exhale. Sitting in his lap again, she coolly picks the spoon off the plate and continues eating.</p><p>He watches as she takes small spoonful after spoonful, <em> wishing </em> for her to roll her hips. But with each passing moment, each long second after the next, as his dick utterly <em> throbs</em>, she refuses to move.</p><p>It's bordering on torturous—she's warm and tight and absolutely <em> everything </em> he's craved, but this is her type of punishment. If he were to move, if he were to open his mouth again she'd drag this outbut he doesn't know how much longer he <em>can</em> keep his mouth shut and utterly <em> beg </em> her to fuck him.</p><p>"So obedient," she says after what feels like an eternity. A sly smirk spreads on her lips. "I'm surprised you're not <em>pleading </em>with me to fuck you."</p><p>"Lesson learned."</p><p>"<em>And </em> a quick study." With her gaze locked into his, she grinds in his lap.</p><p>“Jesus,” Jesse murmurs, a shiver wracks his body. Her movements are minute, but <em> Christ</em>, he could fucking come if he truly let go.</p><p>Ashe’s eyes bore into his. She looks cool and calm, but the deepness of her breaths and the way her teeth graze against her bottom lip is telling that <em> this </em> little act is just as torturous for her. </p><p>She offers him more pie, he opens his mouth. As he chews, his hands settle on her ass. He doesn’t push or pull or grab, just settles on her bare skin. Just like before he’s utterly enamoured by her, caught under her spell.</p><p>When she has her next bite of pie, she sighs. She lifts her hips a little, but it’s enough for it to send a wave of pleasure crashing into him. His fingers flex, digging into the meat of her ass.</p><p>“Ain’t never gonna think about apple pie the same way again,” he murmurs. </p><p>A lazy grin spreads on Ashe’s lips. “So, if we were out one day and I ordered an apple pie, what would you do?”</p><p>“Fuckin’ sweep everything off the table, pull you onto it and fuck you, there and then.”</p><p>“How <em> lewd</em>,” Ashe replies. She rolls her hips in lazy circles, her eyes flutter closed, her head tips back a little. </p><p>“So you see us catching up for pie?” Jesse asks. He keeps his tone light, he can’t let her know just how much he <em> needs </em> her to say yes.</p><p>“Wouldn’t say no to pie and sex in the near future,” Ashe breathes, gasping and moaning softly.</p><p><em> God, </em> he didn’t realise just how much he missed her like this. Where she builds herself up slowly and quiet gasps and moans fall from her lips, where it starts to feel <em> that </em> good that her eyes flutter closed, her head tips back and shows off her gorgeous neck.</p><p>He can’t help it then, he takes the pie from her hand and leans in, kissing her neck. Blindly, he places the pie on the nightstand as his fingers tangle in her hair, as he breathes in deep and smells her perfume on her skin. He rocks his hips, meeting her shallow thrusts. </p><p>He can’t deny himself her any longer. While the offer of pie and sex is a start—even though the offer stood a decade ago, he has <em> every </em> intention to take her up on her offer of sex this time, as casual as it might be. They started off casually all those years ago and it developed into something more. There is every chance that history <em> could </em> repeat itself. </p><p>Her hands settle on his shoulders, her nails dig into his skin as he dots kisses up to her jaw, her chin. But before he can get to her lips, she pulls away, looking him in the eye. She doesn’t take her gaze off him as she wraps her hand around his prosthetic, dragging it from the small of her back, over her thigh to her pelvis. </p><p>“Been wonderin’ what this feels like,” she whispers. </p><p>Without speaking a word, Jesse rubs against her clit gently with his thumb. </p><p>“It’s cold,” she says, quivering in his lap. </p><p>“It <em> is </em> artificial.”</p><p>Ashe rolls her hips now, starting a steady rhythm. Her eyes flutter closed again, her back arches as quiet moans and hushed swears fall from her lips.</p><p>In this moment, Ashe was always at her most beautiful.</p><p>Jesse’s eyes trail down her neck, her chest. He takes her breast in his hand, squeezing and kneading. Dipping his head, he dots kisses down her chest, over the swell of her breast to her nipple. He lavishes the hardened bud, sucking on it, and whimpers against her skin when her hand settles on the back of her head, fingernails grazing against his scalp.</p><p>He takes her nipple between his teeth gently and she moans, loud and unabashed, sending a pulse of pleasure straight to his dick. She pulls his hair, so hard his head tips back, and stares at him with white-hot need. He sees it for what it is, and shifting a hand to the small of her back, he flips them. Lying on top of her, he draws her legs up, and one at a time, he helps to lift them up onto his shoulders. </p><p>His first thrust is slow, testing the waters after so long. She moans, long and low, but that fire still burns behind her eyes. His next thrust is faster, harder, and her back arches off the bed. But still, she cups his face, pulling him down on top of her. Her knees practically touch her shoulders as their lips crash, he grabs fistfuls of the duvet as he fucks her, as a chorus of muffled moans fills the room. </p><p>This moment, this right<em> now </em> is <em> everything</em>. It’s the beginning of a new chapter in his life, a life spent with the woman of his dreams. Ashe is no longer the one who got away, but the woman whose heart he captured again. He buried every fleeting thought of this very moment once upon a time because he didn’t <em> want </em> to get his hopes utterly crushed and now, <em> now </em> it’s a reality; it’s bright and blinding and he <em> embraces </em> it, holding tight and not letting go.</p><p>The kiss recedes, Ashe’s hands slip from Jesse’s face to his shoulders. He pulls his head up, taking in Ashe below him. A deep frown teases her brows, her legs slip off his shoulders and he adjusts again, falling onto his elbows as her legs curl around his waist.</p><p>Taking a slow, shuddering breath, he looks down at Ashe, shifting a lock of hair off her face and tucking it behind her ear. He takes her in, utterly drinks her up and smiles, an attempt to keep the tide of emotion at bay.</p><p>“Getting emotional in your old age,” Ashe murmurs. </p><p>“Well, when you hit 40, things get put into perspective.”</p><p>Ashe huffs a laugh. “What things?”</p><p>“Truly slowing down. Acknowledging the past, learning and growing and recognising when those dues have been paid.”</p><p>“That so?”</p><p>Jesse nods. “Think it’s time <em> I </em> slowed down, took some time to enjoy the perfect, little things in my life.”</p><p>"<em>T</em><em>hings?” </em> </p><p>“Apple pie, for one.”</p><p>Ashe affectionately rolls her eyes. “That it?”</p><p>“The desert.”</p><p>“Well, I do hear it’s nice this time of year.”</p><p>“You.”</p><p>A wicked little smirk spreads on Ashe’s lips. “So you’re <em> finally </em>goin’ to take me up on that offer for more sex?”</p><p>“Well…” </p><p>Ashe frowns. “Well…?”</p><p>“How about dinner?” </p><p>“Dinner?” Ashe’s eyes narrow.</p><p>Jesse shrugs coyly. “Dinner. Figured it’s the least I can do.”</p><p>“For?”</p><p>“Everything.” Jesse takes a deep breath, trying to keep two decades’ worth of baggage from spilling open. “For leaving you. For footing you with that hotel bill. For using you last month—”</p><p>“You know, you could’ve asked for my help and I’d have done it without question.”</p><p>Jesse takes a moment to think about a scenario where he contacted her for her help. They would’ve fucked back then, and who knows, they might already be a month ahead on this new part of their lives.</p><p>But, honestly, contacting her to <em> help </em> never once crossed his mind.</p><p>Humming, Jesse shrugs playfully. “The shootout was kind of fun, though.”</p><p>“It was.” Then Ashe backhands his shoulder. “Though I will have you know that it took an hour to put Bob back together <em> and </em> Bars had to get himself a new right arm <em> and </em> optical processor, thank you very much. And he fuckin' whinged for <em> days </em> that you shot his baby—”</p><p>“He was gonna shoot me!”</p><p>“I wouldn’t’ve let him,” Ashe purrs, cupping the back of his head and pulling him down into a searing kiss. She rolls her hips and he meets her, but instead of fucking hard and fast like before, this time, he goes slow. This isn’t sex, not anymore, not after this—this is rekindling that spark, this is love-making.</p><p>Ashe presses one final kiss to the corner of his mouth, her arms wrap around his neck her fingers tangle in his hair. He slides his arm under her, around her shoulders and holds her tight, his forehead rests against hers. Her moans are quiet, hushed, but so are his. Right now, in this one singular moment, nothing else matters. Only Ashe.</p><p><em> Always </em>Ashe.</p><p>“Jesse,” Ashe gasps, her hips buck. “Jesse don’t stop.”</p><p>Groaning, Jesse thrusts a little harder. If he had to list the things he missed about Ashe, her moaning his name during sex would be up there. It lost its shine over the years, he <em> forgot </em> what she sounded like after all this time, just how desperate she sounds, how much she <em> needs </em> him and it’s everything he didn’t know he needed, didn’t know he <em> wanted</em>, and <em> fuck</em>, he could live in this moment forever.</p><p>But as fate would have it, the pressure becomes too much as she tightens around him, as she moans long and loud. He can’t hold on, as much as he never wants this moment to end, he has to let go.</p><p>“Liz,” he moans against her skin. He slows to a grind, kissing every inch of skin he can reach as he rides out his high.</p><p>She cups his face again, he pulls his head up enough to meet her in a slow and sensual kiss. Her tongue gently brushes against his and he whimpers, holding her tighter than before. This, <em> this </em> was something that was absent from a decade ago. They were running on so much lust that all sensuality was lost, and God, kissing her like <em> this </em> has him feeling all kinds of nostalgic and contented.</p><p>With a sigh, Jesse pulls his head up and kisses her forehead. He looks down at her and smiles when she smiles.</p><p>“Were you serious about dinner?” There’s a fragility in Ashe's voice, a reluctance like she doesn’t want a <em> wrong </em> answer to her question. </p><p>And Jesse is sure, based on what she has said over the course of this afternoon, that they are on the same page.</p><p>“I’ve paid my dues,” Jesse says with a nod. “Twice now. I’ve spent <em> more </em> than enough time on the road, moving from motel room to motel room. I wanna settle down. I wanna enjoy life. I wanna…” he pauses and smiles wider, gazing into her eyes, wide and full of hope. “I wanna spend it with you.”</p><p>“I want that too,” Ashe breathes. “But the gang...” she sighs and looks away.</p><p>“Is yours. You’ve done amazingly getting the club to where it is now, I don’t wanna take that away from you.”</p><p>“But you’re the good guy and I’m the bad guy.”</p><p>“Ashe,” Jesse says with a chuckle. “They think I robbed a train. They see me as a vigilante, which I <em> was</em>. I <em> am</em>. I’ll forever be seen, forever be painted as the bad guy. Just got that look about me, I suppose.”</p><p>“And if Overwatch wanna take you away from me again?”</p><p>“It’ll never happen. Ain’t sayin’ I won’t lend a hand every now and then, but I’m done with that life. I’m done with orders and duty and routine and—” Jesse closes his eyes, and he sees Gabe and Ana and Mina and Jack, the countless others whose names he doesn’t even remember, the ones he’s lost over the years. He sees them all, he sees their empty caskets with the damned Overwatch flag draped on top. “I’ve seen some horrid shit. I’ve <em> done </em> some horrid shit in the name of <em> duty </em> and never again. I lost good people, people I dared to call <em> family </em> and never—I <em> can’t </em>—”</p><p>Ashe nods, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and holding him tight. He lets the wave of emotion pass, he lets those memories fade away. Saying he is done aloud, something he had rehearsed in his head a million billion times if he had the opportunity, is finally <em> uttered </em> and out there and it almost feels like a weight is lifted off his shoulders.</p><p>But in its wake, he doesn’t feel regret or remorse for daring to <em> speak </em> those words. </p><p>He’s happy.</p><p>He is happy. Saying the words aloud cemented it in stone: He is done with anything and everything that is expected of him. He has <em> more </em> than earned this new life.</p><p>“Dinner sounds good,” Ashe whispers. “I’m free tonight if you are.”</p><p>“Got nowhere else to be,” Jesse whispers back. He huffs a laugh, lifting his head to look at her gorgeous face. “Know anywhere good? Haven’t been on this side of town in twenty years.”</p><p>“There’s a good steakhouse in town.”</p><p>“Sounds perfect.”</p><p>Ashe smiles as she sweeps his hair behind his ear. “God, I missed you.”</p><p>And there it is, the cherry on top of this wonderful sundae. He might have had his reservations about being here, about seeing her today, but words cannot describe just how <em> glad </em> he is that he bit the bullet. It was a gamble, the odds honestly weren’t in his favour but he knows, in another universe he walked away and that version of him is probably sad and alone back at the pay by the hour motel he parked himself at. </p><p>He is here, he is with the woman of his dreams, and <em> finally,</em> everything feels <em> right</em>.</p><p>He looks down at her, vision starting to go blurry as his eyes well with tears. “I missed you too,” he says, choking back a sob.</p><p>Ashe crashes their lips together. He kisses her through this moment, another series of words he never dared to even <em> think </em> about for ten years. But hearing them aloud, hearing <em>himself</em> say something that was once <em>forbidden </em>opens those floodgates, letting every bad memory out, making room for an entire future of good memories, starting with this one.</p><p>He loves Ashe. He never <em> stopped </em> loving Ashe. As much as he wants to scream it from the rooftops, there is a time and a place. Right now, he wants to take things slow, repair the damage of twenty years’ worth of neglect before saying those three little words again. </p><p>Pressing one last kiss to the corner of Ashe’s mouth, right over that little mole, he pulls up again. He looks at her eyes, twinkling in the light, and he doesn’t need to say them, he doesn’t need her to say them. He can see it, and he is more than sure that she can see it too.</p><p>“I missed your smile,” Ashe whispers, sweeping her thumb under his lower lip gently.</p><p>“I missed your eyes.”</p><p>“I missed all seven and a half inches of you.” A sly smirk spreads on Ashe’s lips and she winks as she tightens around him.</p><p>Jesse scoffs, but he smiles wide. There’s the Ashe he knows. “Way to ruin the moment, Ashe,” he teases.</p><p>“What? We’ve got twenty years worth of bad jokes to make up for.”</p><p>“That we do,” Jesse says, huffing a laugh and cradling her face. “That we do.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The apple pie they're eating is <a href="https://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/food-network-kitchen/new-mexican-apple-pie-3363304">New Mexican Apple Pie</a></p>
<p>And <a href="https://lovechildboudoir.com/collections/body-cages/products/templehead-purple-flower-leaf-bodycage">the lingerie</a> Ashe is wearing.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Inferno</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>here a little later than i had anticipated but here nonetheless.</p><p>enjoy!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stifling embarrassment settles over Ashe as she eyes Bob sitting on the couch.</p><p>Ashe knew she could smell those hints of butter and corn the moment Jesse stepped into the shower. She wished with every fibre of her being that she was imagining it—she has indulged in so much corn pudding over the last month thanks to Jesse’s actions on Route 66 she's practically been living on it. </p><p>And just her fucking luck, it wasn't her imagination; instead, it is her worst nightmare—Bob’s here, in her house, and the fact that he was able to whip up a batch of corn pudding while they were upstairs, fucking loudly with the door open is frankly horrifying. She and Jesse spent a long time just lying in silence upstairs, enjoying a quiet moment as they began the healing process and yet, in that time, she couldn’t hear anything from Bob. </p><p>Maybe they fell asleep. Maybe Bob closed the doors down here and heard nothing. </p><p>It’s a lie she’s telling herself, though. She watches Bob; he has the components for the gun in his arm laid out on the coffee table and is in the process of cleaning them. He’s annoyed; she’s watched him clean the parts while she tended to Viper countless times and he’s always used a gentle touch. Now, he’s rougher with the pieces, a little more forceful with his tools.</p><p>Bob not only knows that Jesse is here, but he’s also pissed about it. This is precisely the reason why she didn’t tell him about Jesse reaching out because he would’ve talked her out of it. If she stood her ground, he would've insisted he be present for the handover and they wouldn't have rekindled because he wouldn't have fucking left until Jesse did.</p><p>His concern and anger are completely justified, though. He wasn’t exactly happy about what Jesse did to him, even with that weak as piss apology on the side of the road. </p><p>But still, the fact that Bob is here, knows Jesse is here, <em>and</em> has made corn pudding means one thing: she’s in for a tough conversation.</p><p>Assuming he didn't hear them upstairs, she tries to work out how else Bob might now Jesse is here. The bike sitting outside could be proof that Jesse was here, and to be honest it is a stretch that he had visited. Before today, she was ready to tell him that she found it herself from a tipoff that he had left. No contact made, no words spoken. She <em>was</em> planning on telling him eventually, once she and Jesse were on a firmer foundation.</p><p>Now, though, as she stands in the threshold of the open plan living space dressed in her robe at four in the goddamn afternoon while the shower is running upstairs, there’s no point trying to lie. </p><p>At least she had the sense to peel off the lingerie and slip on a pair of underwear before heading down, so that piece of incriminating evidence is rightly hidden.</p><p>Stepping into the kitchen, Ashe inhales deeply, a futile attempt to quash her nerves, and casts her eye to Bob. “How’d you know?” </p><p>Bob doesn’t look up at her, he continues cleaning like she isn’t here, and that all but cuts her in two—he’s also pissed at <em>her</em>. He reaches beside him, lifting Jesse’s serape.</p><p>That’s right. She took it off Jesse, kissing his neck and making her intentions <em>very</em> known before leading him to the bedroom. She meant to hide after she changed into the lingerie it but ended up just smelling it, getting drunk and horny off the smell of cigar smoke and desert dust and whiskey, rubbing the rough, worn fabric all over her exposed skin and getting off while doing so, as she waited for the diner pie to be delivered.</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>She considers her options but she knows she’s backed into a corner. If Jesse were just asleep in bed, she could tell Bob that she’s got Jesse tied up out back, or that he was here and is now gone and left the serape. Easy lies if not for the fact that now that the shower in her bedroom is running and she’s not inside it.</p><p>Besides, why would he take it off? Why would she take it off and leave it on the couch? She thinks back to when he arrived, how her anger turned to lust with nothing but a bottle of whiskey and a playful smirk. Cheap and easy. He always knew the way to her heart, and the more she wants to despise him for it, the more she finds herself wanting him.</p><p>He was always special. He was always the one.</p><p>“All right fine,” she huffs, folding her arms across her chest. “Give me that piece of your mind.”</p><p>Bob places the serape back down and continues cleaning. The silence stretches between them, the tension hanging heavily between like a fog, and the longer it goes on, she feels ready to explode.</p><p>“Fine,” she says. “He brought the bike and some whiskey as a peace offering. I invited him inside, we had a drink—”</p><p>Bob pauses, reaching for something on the ground, and he lifts up the half-empty bottle. </p><p>“Okay, more than one drink.” She thinks about what other incriminating evidence there is. “We—” No, the less Bob knows, the better. He doesn’t need to be aware of every intimate detail in her life. “He’s having a shower because he’d spent the day riding. That’s it.”</p><p>Bob levels her with a flat stare.</p><p>"Bob—" Ashe's heart leaps into her throat when she hears Jesse's whistling from the hallway, but she doesn’t break eye contact with Bob.</p><p>“Is that corn pudding I smell? Smells fucking—fuck, shit!”</p><p>Bob’s gaze shifts to Jesse as he hurries behind the counter. He then glances at Ashe, tilts his head to the left in that snarky condescending way she hates.</p><p>She wants to be angry but she can feel the heat creeping up to cheeks as she can see from the corner of her eye that Jesse’s fucking naked, hand <em>still</em> covering his jewels even though he’s behind the counter and Bob can’t see shit.</p><p>Cat’s out of the bag now.</p><p>“Hey Bob, I didn’t realise you were here.” He chuckles nervously, gently nudging Ashe with his elbow. “A little warning might’ve been good.”</p><p>Ashe ignores him. She’s sweating bullets. She has a private life that she keeps private for a reason, a life that Bob both doesn’t need to be, and doesn’t <em>want</em> to be privy to. And now, they’ve collided in the most horrific of ways, like the twisted wreck of those train cars as they crashed down into the gorge.</p><p>Jesse clears his throat, cutting harshly through the silence like nails on a chalkboard. “Hey uh… Bob, do you mind handing me my ah…”</p><p>Bob’s gaze shifts to him, eyes narrowed. He doesn’t break eye contact as he holds out the serape, and he absolutely doesn’t leave the couch.</p><p>“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Ashe spits, walking over to Bob and snatching the serape out of his hand. She tosses it to Jesse and he wraps it around his waist. “Give us five minutes.”</p><p>“Sure thing,” Jesse says. He sidesteps out of the kitchen and Ashe’s eyes drop to his crotch, at the visible outline of his hard dick and begs the world to just swallow her up whole. It couldn’t get worse than it already is and he’s fucking hard despite all this.</p><p>Was he hard when he approached? Did he inadvertently show Bob his erection?</p><p>That stifling embarrassment turns into drowning humiliation. Despite wanting to sock Jesse one, to shove him out of the kitchen and forget his existence, her eyes drop to his ass as he turns around, round and perfect given how tight he’s holding the serape and god all she wants to do is sink her teeth into the meat—</p><p>She snaps back into the present when she hears the clink of metal as Bob reassembles his arm. With a sigh, holding the robe tightly around her lest he sees more than he needs to, she walks to the couch, sitting beside Bob. “Look, I know what you’re goin’ to say. That I’m just fixing to get my heart broken again, that he’ll leave just like last time, that he doesn’t care about me... but I think it’s different this time. He’s different. You were there on Route 66, it could’ve been over quicker than it was.”</p><p>Bob doesn’t look at her, he just continues assembling his arm. </p><p>“I know I’m making excuses for him. And I know I promised I wouldn’t do that anymore. But he wouldn’t be here if I thought he had ill intentions.”</p><p>The oven beeps and Bob glances at it, then at his arm.</p><p>“I’ve got it.” Ashe enters the kitchen, opening the oven door to check the corn pudding. Her stomach rumbles as she eyes the golden crust. Turning it off, she slides on oven mitts and pulls it out, resting it on the stove to cool. “He said he’s done with everything. With Overwatch and bounties and being apart from me.”</p><p>That catches Bob’s attention—he looks at her, head tilted to the right side in confusion. </p><p>“Confused me too, but he sounded genuine.”</p><p>Bob nods, then signs, <em>And the club?</em> </p><p>“Said he wanted no part in it,” she says with a shrug, taking off the oven mitts. “Not that I would let him back in if he wanted to but still… He’s not the same shithead he was all those years ago. He’s different now.”</p><p>
  <em>Sounds like it. Still, I don’t want to see you hurt.</em>
</p><p><em>I know</em>, Ashe signs back. <em>He wouldn’t be here if I had a single, small inkling that he was going to hurt me.</em> She sighs. “It started as a bit of harmless fun but now…” She takes a shaky breath, allowing herself the barest of glimpses of a future where they grow old together, and she chokes back a sob. “I hope I’m not making a mistake.”</p><p>
  <em>You are a good judge of character.</em>
</p><p>“With everyone else, not with him.” </p><p>
  <em>I was just about to say.</em>
</p><p>Clearing her throat, Ashe wipes the corners of her eyes with her finger. “But I do like to think that I’m better now.”</p><p>Bob nods, sliding the plating of his arm in place. He stands and approaches, placing a hand on her shoulder, but she embraces him tight. </p><p>“I’ll kill him if he plays any more games with me,” she whispers. “I won’t let him fuck me over again.” She lets those words settle on her, permeate her very soul. She made that promise already, that’s why she left him after their marathon fuck session at the hotel in Vegas. But just one month ago she promised to end his sorry life the second she saw him again and of course, she channelled that rage into pure, white-hot arousal.</p><p>And now, his presence, his retirement confession has ripped open those old wounds; before the shit hit the fan, before Overwatch tore their lives apart.</p><p><em>Ride or die.</em> The pact was always there. She thought it dead and buried, but now, that bridge that was burned has been rebuilt. They can pick up where they left off, the detour their lives took are now on the right path. That first path.</p><p>Taking a shaky breath, Ashe pulls away from Bob, looking up at him. This time will be different. “Thanks for listening.”</p><p>
  <em>I’m here for you, always. And if he hurts you in any way I will not sit by.</em>
</p><p>“Thanks, Bob,” she says with a light chuckle. Bob never goes in guns blazing, couldn’t even hurt a fly unless she orders him to. He couldn’t hurt Jesse a month ago. Ashe doubts he’ll act on it, but the sentiment is nice enough as is.</p><p>She watches on as Bob pulls two plates from the cupboard, then scoops up a hearty helping of corn pudding onto each plate. She grabs two spoons, placing them on the plates as Bob hands them to her.</p><p>“Thanks, Bob. For everything.”</p><p>
  <em>You’re welcome. I will give you some space. I don’t want to see or hear more than I have already witnessed.</em>
</p><p>Ashe cringes. “Sorry.” </p><p><em>You deserve happiness.</em> Bob then places a hand on her shoulder.</p><p>Ashe smiles, she tries to say thanks but ends up choking back a sob. She nods instead and mouths, <em>Thanks.</em></p><p>Taking another shaky breath, she heads off to her bedroom. From behind her, she hears the jingle of keys, then the front door opens and closes. This time, as she steps through the threshold of her bedroom, she closes the door behind her.</p><p>“Hey,” Jesse says, sitting up in bed. He’s not wearing a shirt, and the sheet falls low enough to know he doesn’t have underwear on. She’s not sure if she’s amused or annoyed that he didn’t get dressed. “Everything okay?”</p><p>“Yeah.” She sits on the bed, handing him his plate. “He’s just being protective.”</p><p>“Don’t blame him.” Jesse places a gentle hand on her thigh. “Listen, Liz, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not here to break your heart. I…” he drops his gaze, and for a brief moment, his eyes grow watery. He blinks the tears away and cups her face, leaning in to kiss her gently. Her heart flutters, she lets herself be consumed by him. </p><p>She’s never seen this side of Jesse before. Even when they were fucking before her life was left in ruins, he was always cocky, hiding his true feelings behind a shit-eating grin. He had his softer moments but he was never tender, and he sure as shit never got teary-eyed, not even in their final moments together in that Overwatch interrogation room. He never showed that side of him to her, he was always strong. </p><p>He was always her rock.</p><p>Now, though, if she ever wanted proof that he has changed, it’s right in front of her. His gentler words, his softer kisses; this is more than hooking up, this is more than testing the waters for something more. He’s serious about this, serious about his new life and retirement and them.</p><p>He’s changed, and the joy, the sorrow, the anger, the lust, the love she had for him once upon a time hit her like a desert storm. So many emotions, so many memories flash in front of her, and she wants to kiss him harder and slap him and pin him against the wall and fuck him senseless all at once. </p><p>But she keeps herself as grounded as she can, setting her plate down onto the bed and cupping his face as she sweeps her tongue in his mouth. He sighs through his nose, one hand settling on her ass as he swings his arm to get his plate on the nightstand, it clinks hard against the other one that has the rest of the long-forgotten apple pie and knocks over her lamp but she doesn’t care if it’s broken, not as she settles in his lap.</p><p>With each brush of their tongues, each roll of her hips in his lap, a fire grows within her. She feels his cock through the sheet, hard and ready as she grinds against it. While it wasn’t her intention to fuck him again before dinner, all she wants, all she <em>craves</em> is to be in his arms, to feel him, stretching her open, pushing against her walls. He’s so fucking intoxicating, his smell, his body, his smile, she’s weak to <em>all</em> of him.</p><p>She <em>needs</em> him.</p><p>His hands settle on her shoulders and without breaking off the kiss, he parts open the robe. She sucks in a breath at the feeling of cold metal and warm flesh and blood trailing over bare skin, as he takes her breasts in each hand. </p><p>He presses kisses down her chin, her neck, she watches with her bottom lip between her teeth as he sucks on one nipple, then the other. Her hand settles on the nape of his neck, his hair spills between her fingers and she combs it, playing with it like she used to back in the day. He moans softly with each gentle tug, he rolls his hips, demanding more.</p><p>Lifting herself up a little bit, she pulls the sheet away from his lap. His cock slaps hard against her, she gasps as she pulls her underwear aside, quickly lining him at her entrance and sinking down. </p><p>He moans again, muffled against her tits and she rocks her hips, fast, quick. He squeezes and kneads and sucks and pinches, every single one has moans falling from her lips as the pressure becomes too much, too <em>much</em>—</p><p>She moans his name as her head tips back, as her fingernails dig into the meat of his shoulder. He groans; he’s close, but he’s not <em>there</em>. She slows to a grind, exhaling slowly and burying her face in his hair. He smells like her shampoo but beneath it, she can still smell him, his sun-kissed skin, the desert air.</p><p>Jesse pulls his head up and Ashe meets him in a gentle kiss. His hands shift onto her back, even though his flesh hand is rough and callused, his touch is impossibly soft. </p><p>She keeps riding out the kiss as she rolls her hips again, slower than before. Right now, there’s no rush, no desperate need driving her, and Jesse doesn’t rush her either. She could live in this moment forever, one with him until the end of time. The club could burn, the world could too and she couldn’t care less.</p><p>The only thing that matters right now is Jesse.</p><p>With each passing moment, each shared breath and quiet gasp, Ashe feels her heart beating harder, faster. Those three little words she used to say so easily, as natural as breathing soon became a curse. The more she resented him, the more she tried to take it all back and the more those words burned, seared into her very soul. For years, <em>years</em> she was caught in a veritable tug of war, her heart and her brain at odds. How could she hate him and love him at the same time? </p><p>The moment she gave into her heart, realised she cherished those memories with Jesse, the resentment for him started to fall away. In their final act together, he protected her, saved her from a life she wouldn’t have been able to live. It took years; spite fucking him in Vegas, a lot of soul searching and maturity to realise that, but he did all it for her.</p><p>He did everything for her.</p><p>And now he’s back. He might be different—older, wiser, more mature, missing an arm—but beneath that scruffy beard is the same Jesse she fell in love with all those years ago, the same Jesse who called her his ride or die, the same Jesse who has had her heart the entire time they were apart. </p><p>Jesse moans, breaking off the kiss. His hand slides up, cradling the back of her head as he rests his forehead against hers. “Been wanting to say somethin’ to you, and I wanted to wait to see where this lead but I can’t—” he moans again, his hips jerk, he quivers. </p><p>Ashe sucks in a breath as he holds his face between her hands. His eyes are watery and this time, he doesn’t blink the tears away.</p><p>“Liz, I love you—” he gasps and shudders, “I love you.” Then he moans, that final moan as tears spill down his cheeks.</p><p>“I love you too,” Ashe murmurs, slowing to a grind. She closes her eyes as she kisses his forehead, his tear-stained cheek, his lips. “I love you too.”</p><p>She holds onto him tight, he holds her tighter. They sit in silence, in this shared afterglow for what seems like forever, and she doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters right now, other than Jesse.</p><p>She thinks about how much he’s changed, how much older he looks, and she knows she’s aged just as much. They’ve lived dangerous lives; stressful, difficult, often bloody days which blend into painful, sleepless nights. It’s so good that Jesse’s retiring from that life, it’s what he deserves after everything. </p><p>And the thing is, what is stopping her from retiring right beside him?</p><p>It would be easy to hand the keys to the gang to the triplets. They’re dumb as dog shit alone but the three of them together are a powerful unit. Add to it Bars’ presence, and the four of them can be astoundingly competent. They’ve pulled off more than a few heists without her, all of which have been successful. She’s taught them well. She’s trained them well, in the off chance she met her maker at the end of a gun barrel, so they can continue her legacy.</p><p>They can go out and do the dangerous work while she can spend her days here with Jesse, eating and sleeping and fucking. She can finally have the life she deserves, they can finally have a life together that won’t have them looking over their shoulder every minute of every day. They can relax, they can breathe, they can get a dozen dogs and just <em>live</em>.</p><p>Yesterday, the thought of retiring wasn’t in her mind. She would die before she retired from this life. But today, spending the rest of her days with Jesse by her side, sipping sweet tea and eating corn pudding sounds <em>divine</em>.</p><p>She started this club to find a family. And she did, but now, the only ones who matter are Jesse and Bob. The three of them, all living under one roof, enjoying their well-earned slice of life. </p><p>The more she thinks about it, the wider her smile grows. It’s the right decision.</p><p>It’s time.</p><p>But as she opens her mouth to tell Jesse, nothing comes out. Perhaps she’ll sleep on it. Talk it out with Bob first.</p><p>Ashe kisses his forehead, and he looks up at her, smiling wide. He sniffles, clears his throat, wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. “Whew, that’s never happened before,” he says with a light chuckle.</p><p>“Can you say you’ve actually had sex if you haven’t shed a tear at some point?”</p><p>Jesse huffs a laugh, he cradles her face, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. “I’ve really fucking missed you.”</p><p>“I’ve missed you too.”</p><p>Holding her face and sweeping her hair behind her ear, he looks at her for the longest time with big, sad eyes. Those same big, sad eyes he levelled her when she left that hotel room ten years ago. </p><p>He looks at her like he doesn’t believe she’s here in front of him, or that the second he lets go of her she’ll leave.</p><p>It breaks her heart.</p><p>“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispers. “You’ve been out of my life for so long, I can’t bear another moment away from you.”</p><p>“Me too.” Then the sorrow is replaced with a smile, big and brimming. “God, you’re beautiful. Just gorgeous.” </p><p>“Stop,” she says, turning away bashfully. It’s been so long since someone complimented her and meant it, who wasn’t just saying it to get between her legs that she can barely handle it. </p><p>She actually thinks the last person to say it genuinely was Jesse.</p><p>“Never,” he says, kissing her cheek.</p><p>Smiling, she glances at him. “And you’re not too bad yourself.” She gently rakes her fingers through his beard. “Beard suits you.”</p><p>“Trying something new, glad you like it.”</p><p>Ashe hums. “Makes you look distinguished.”</p><p>Jesse smiles wide and winks, and her heart flutters fiercely. She forgot just how much she loved his winks, and with the crows feet, he’s just gorgeous.</p><p>They’ve got twenty years to catch up on. Twenty years of softly spoken words and kisses and winks. Tight, passionate embraces. Laughter.</p><p>She takes in a deep, shuddering breath. This is the first day of the rest of her life with the man of her dreams.</p><p>“You still feeling dinner?”</p><p>Ashe blinks into now, meeting his gaze. “Not really, I could stay here forever. Besides,” she reaches for her plate with the piece of corn pudding sitting dangerously close to the edge. “Bob made so much of this.” She scoops some onto her spoon, offering it to him. He opens his mouth and she feeds him, he hums and nods as he chews.</p><p>“Yeah, that’s pretty good." Then he smiles sheepishly. "But please, can we put some clothes on? I don’t wanna get hard and think about fucking you whenever Bob makes this.”</p><p>Ashe scoffs a laugh, lifting herself up on her knees, adjusting her underwear and sitting beside him. “Better?”</p><p>He reaches for his plate, settling beside her. “Much.” They sit in silence as they eat, he takes her plate when she’s finished, setting it on the nightstand with his. “I could get used to this.”</p><p>“Me too,” she breathes, resting her head on his shoulder and linking her arm with his. She inhales deeply and closes her eyes; savouring the first moment of the first day of the rest of her life. “Me too.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>In this universe, Ashe can't have kids. Jesse knows this, it's why it wasn't mentioned, nor why protection was offered/requested. So please, no talk of McAshe babies please.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Incandescent</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is wholly, 100% self-indulgent. Ashe playing with the serape in chapter one was a throwaway line but I could NOT stop thinking about it, so it got its own chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Life is good.</p>
<p>Ashe never expected that she would <em>enjoy </em>this much time away from the club. While not her first absence—she’s been arrested on more than one occasion and even got some jail time racked up on charges that never stick because she’s fucking meticulous—this is the longest she has been away from life in the fast lane.</p>
<p>What surprises her the most about it, though, is that she doesn’t <em>miss </em>it. She doesn’t miss the sleepless nights spent balancing the books, planning heists, the worry of getting caught or losing one of her guys, the severe loneliness. It’s been good to just breathe, to appreciate sunrises and sunsets without errant stress or worries.</p>
<p>Most of all, it’s been good being in Jesse’s warm embrace again. To feel his warm touch. His desperate, bruising kisses. The sex. <em> God</em>, sleeping with him, being able to fuck <em> whenever </em>they want is heaven. They don’t run on a schedule or have meetings, they spend entire <em>days </em>in bed, chatting and laughing and fucking, and it’s been <em>fantastic</em>.</p>
<p>Jesse has been back in her life for nine glorious weeks now, and their honeymoon period is nowhere near close to ending. Well, there was a brief moment where it came close to shattering when he decided to grow out his beard. It just ended up looking intensely wild, with the untameable hairs sticking out this way and that. When he trimmed back the hair on his cheeks, leaving his goatee longer… She was sure there was no way he could <em>be </em>hotter than he already was, but he managed it and boy, did she <em>show </em>him how much it turned her on.</p>
<p>The long, gross beard was a mere little blip and since then they’ve been going strong. They haven’t fought once—there’s not much to fight about when the only decisions to be made are, ‘What do you want for dinner?’ or, 'Wanna fuck?' </p>
<p>It’s been a blissful two-and-a-bit months, even with Bob in the house. Not that he had been her butler since she left her old life behind, but she'll never forget the relief when she told him that he too can truly enjoy retirement. Now, he spends his days in the garage, tinkering with some new robot, or outside, tending to his garden. He gives them privacy and they give him space, and he is so much happier to be out of his club vest.</p>
<p>Ashe sighs dreamily, reaching out and placing a hand on Jesse’s empty side of the bed. He and Bob have gone into town for some shopping, their first outing together since Jesse's been back in her life. Bob’s looking at sweaters as winter approaches—he has an idea to get them matching ones and she doesn't have the heart to say no to.</p>
<p>Jesse on the other hand is updating his entire look and wardrobe. Along with the beard, he’s cut his hair shorter and is in the process of replacing his prosthetic, wanting something smaller, sleeker, no longer scratched or scuffed. He’s already bought a pair of boots—she thanks the lord above he got rid of those awful worn spurred boots—and replaced them with a frankly sexy pair; shin-high leather with thick, heavy metal strips. They do have spikes on the back which are impractical given their new life, it's not like he's going to be roundhousing anyone anytime soon, but he's always liked having something there, from way back when he taped knuckle dusters to his boots. Useless as those spikes might be, at the very least he doesn’t fucking jingle-jangle when he walks anymore.</p>
<p>Jesse was apprehensive about being alone with Bob, and Ashe had to practically push him out the door. Yeah, Jesse has apologized profusely for dismantling Bob on Route 66, and Bob told him it was water under the bridge, but Bob enjoys toying with him; giving Jesse some serious side-eye whenever he's affectionate with Ashe in front of him. It terrifies Jesse but Ashe finds it utterly hilarious<em>. </em> </p>
<p>After spending nine glorious weeks together, she convinced Jesse that they should spend a little time apart, and going shopping with Bob was a wonderful opportunity for them to bond and reconnect. They're planning on spending most of the day out, going to a bar for a drink after hitting the mall, and she’s got the house to herself. This will be the longest she’s been absent Jesse since he re-entered her life. While it was pure bliss for the first two hours which she spent soaking in the tub, listening to music with a glass of wine for company, now, as she sits on her side of the bed, hand over his cold side, she’s missing him.</p>
<p>He'll be back soon enough.</p>
<p>Smiling softly, she picks up his pillow and can't help but breathe in his smell. Just a few more hours until he's back in her arms.</p>
<p>In the meantime, she can do those niggling bits of housework to keep busy. She peels off his pillowcase then hers, and pulls the duvet back, revealing more than a few small, dried white stains on the sheet. Winking her nose as she struggles to remember when she last changed her bedding, she strips everything off the mattress, remaking it with her freshly laundered mattress protector and red silken sheets.</p>
<p>From there, she cleans her room, tossing their combined worn clothes littered on the floor in the hamper. She dusts and vacuums, she takes the dirty plates and mugs to the kitchen which results in her tidying there too. When she's finally done, she replaces the long-dead roses sitting in the vase on her vanity with freshly cut, ready to bloom red roses from the garden.</p>
<p>This is the cleanest her room has been in months and it feels like a proper bedroom again. She needs to make sure they don't spend weeks nesting in it again. Or at least do the bare minimum and clean it every few days.</p>
<p>With a nod, she takes the sheets and dirty clothes to the laundry room. She's greeted with a second hamper of dirty clothes ready to be washed—whites, by the look of it—and there's a load in the machine that looks like it's complete.</p>
<p>She places Bob's freshly washed gardening clothes into a waiting basket and pops her sheets in the machine to get started, then hangs Bob's stuff on the clothesline and sits and enjoys the midday fall sun for a few moments. When she heads back inside, she sorts the two hampers of clothes, separating whites from delicates from everything else. Halfway through the waiting basket of whites, she finds Jesse’s serape. She considers herself lucky that this basket wasn't just tossed in, otherwise, she might have ended up with pink shirts. </p>
<p>Draping the serape over her shoulder, she continues sorting. But with each movement, the scratchy wool rubs against her neck. With every breath she takes, she can smell Jesse on it; as strong as it would be if he were standing here with her right now. It's probably a testament to how long it's been since it was last washed, he hasn’t worn it since their first day together. And underneath his smell are those subtle undertones of desert dust and whiskey, clinging to the fabric after all this time. </p>
<p>She's reminded of when she smelled it on that first day. The arousal she felt when she draped it over herself, the scratchy feeling of worn wool against her nipples and inner thighs. </p>
<p>She feels the first sparks of warmth in her core as she looks down at it, holding it in her hand, rubbing it between thumb and fingers. She got the barest taste of it kissing her clit that day, and she wonders if it would be enough to make her come. </p>
<p>Swallowing thickly, she abandons the dirty laundry and heads back to her room, rubbing the serape against her neck. There is no other thought that occupies her mind, her singular focus as she completely undresses is to wrap the serape around herself and get off, to truly lose herself as it itches against her skin.</p>
<p>Exhaling slowly, she sits with her back resting against the bedhead and with her legs splayed apart. She lightly drags the serape against her chest. It catches on her nipples, sending a shiver cascading down her spine and goosebumps rolling along her skin. The wool tickles, leaving her wanting more and less at the same time. </p>
<p>Actively avoiding her pussy, she drags it down one leg then up the other, gasping as it prickles the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs. She moans softly with her stuttered exhale as it drags slowly against her labia, her clit.</p>
<p>Eyes sliding closed, she rubs the fabric against her clit, already wet and swollen with white-hot need. The roughness of the serape makes her want to pull it away but it feels too good.</p>
<p>But as time ticks past, as she presses down harder and rubs a little faster, the building pressure begins to back off and her body screams for <em>more</em>. Her movements are lightning quick; she reaches for the nightstand drawer, pulling out her magic wand. She doesn’t fuck around, she doesn’t need the warmup, and with her thumb on the wheel as she lies on her back, she ramps up the speed three swipes and presses it to her covered clit. Her head falls back against the pillow and her legs fly straight up into the air as she moans, long and loud. The powerful vibrations coupled with the fabric has her already sitting on the edge of orgasm, and as she gives the wheel another swipe upwards, increasing the vibrations, her back arches, she <em>screams</em>, she feels intense wetness underneath her. </p>
<p>Sitting up, she pulls the serape away, looking at it and her fresh sheets, both now soaked with her squirt. “Shit,” she breathes, tucking the serape under herself. The damage is already done but it can hopefully be mitigated if it happens again. Lying back and pressing the wand between her legs again, over the top of the serape, she wrings out another explosive orgasm, another squirt, so fucking <em> violent </em>it has her seeing stars in her vision.</p>
<p>She exhales slowly as she lowers the vibrations to cool off a little; it's losing its feeling and she’s nowhere near done. Lying flat on the bed, as she drags her hand through her hair, she senses a shift in the air in her room, the sound of fabric rubbing together that definitely didn’t come from her. She opens her eyes, settling on Jesse leaning against the closed door to her room. He's leering at her with dark eyes, he's got his erection in his hand, pumping slowly.</p>
<p>“Don’t let me stop you,” Jesse murmurs, voice thick with desire.</p>
<p>Keeping her eyes on him, she ups the vibrations again, pressing the toy to her covered clit. Her legs jolt back upright, less a show for him and more because that’s where her legs <em>like </em>to go when she’s this turned on. He tugs a little faster, his gaze settles between her legs. </p>
<p>She feels herself climbing again, her hips jerk, but now she’s utterly desperate for a cock inside her. If Jesse weren’t here she’d whip out her dildo, but she’s got him—</p>
<p>“Jesse,” she moans, lifting the wand and tossing the serape away from her, just in time as she squirts <em>again</em>, this one gets some impressive airtime across the bed. </p>
<p>Jesse lurches forward, bottom lip between his teeth as crosses the room with heavy steps. He doesn’t bother getting undressed, he climbs onto the bed with one knee and grabs her by the thighs, she slides effortlessly against the silk sheets as he pulls her in, crashing into his body. </p>
<p>He bends his knees a little to line himself up at her entrance, and he groans as he pushes <em>hard </em>inside her. She <em>moans</em>, practically writhing; his thick cock stretching her open and pushing against her walls is <em>everything </em>she needed and more. Her ankles rest against his shoulders, he holds onto them tight. He doesn’t thrust, though; he holds still as his eyes shift to the wand in her hand. </p>
<p>“Fuck,” she whispers, resting it against her bare clit. Her hips <em>jerk, </em>she pulls it away as oversensitivity takes hold.</p>
<p>“You got another squirt in you?”</p>
<p>Ashe opens her mouth but all that comes out is a desperate whine. She nods, upping the vibrations with another swipe of the wheel, reaching its max. She’s cautious as it touches her clit with the barest of feather touches, the vibrations are so earth-shatteringly strong she bucks against him. </p>
<p><em> Finally, </em>he fucks her, hard and rough. His open zipper digs into her thigh, scratching, bordering on painful but coupled with the sex and the wand it all feels so fucking good. Her moans grow louder, more desperate as the pressure builds and builds, she keeps the toy against her as every fibre of her being <em>begs </em>her to pull it away.</p>
<p>“God fucking <em> damn </em>you’re so fucking tight,” Jesse mutters, frown pinching his brows. “You’re gonna cut off circulation to my dick.”</p>
<p>That’s enough to push her over the edge. “I’m <em>there</em>,” she gasps, and as he rolls his hips back, she squirts. It’s not a little one either; he fucks her through it, she keeps the wand on her as she squirts with each of his back thrusts. </p>
<p>She’s not sure <em>when </em>it stops, he leans down and kisses her rough and biting through the rest of her orgasm. She abandons the wand, quickly rolling the wheel down to off and tossing it behind her, and curls her hands around his biceps as he fucks her, desperate and relentless. Her knees touch her shoulders with each jackhammered thrust, his cock is reaching depths she’s sure it’s <em>never </em>gone.</p>
<p>Just as she’s starting to feel the hints of yet another orgasm building, his moans grow louder and more throaty. His eyes screw shut as his head hangs low, then he stops suddenly, his whole body <em>quivers</em>.</p>
<p>She kisses the top of his head, his temple softly as he floats down from his high, hips still jerking minutely. He plants a chaste kiss on her lips before looking up at her, and she pulls her legs back, adjusting to wrap them around his waist as he settles on top of her. She smiles softly, sweeping away the sweat-stuck hair from his forehead.</p>
<p>“So this is what you get up to when I’m not around,” he whispers. “Jerking off on all my clothes?” He’s got that trademark mischievous smirk on his face and she smiles back, tracing her thumb along the curve of his lower lip.</p>
<p>This moment, right now, freshly fucked and having a go at her… This will forever be her most favourite time with him. She hasn’t told him but she’s sure he knows; she can see it in his eyes when he kisses the pad of her thumb softly.</p>
<p>“This was the <em>first </em>time, I’ll have you know. I don’t know what it is about this,” she says, picking up the serape, “but it feels good against my skin.”</p>
<p>“Can’t say I’ve ever used it in such a way.”</p>
<p>“You can’t tell me you never jacked off into it.”</p>
<p>Jesse levels her a flat stare that’s wholly unconvincing. “I wear it around my neck.”</p>
<p>“Well, if it’s a <em> sticky </em> topic,” Ashe says, grinning playfully, “I’ll drop it.”</p>
<p>“I was…” Jesse huffs a little laugh, his eyes soften, crinkling at the edges as he smiles. “I was thinking of throwing it out, actually.”</p>
<p>Ashe cups his face when his eyes well with tears, but he blinks them away. “Why?” she asks.</p>
<p>“It’s a part of my former life, that solitary life I lived. When I bought this, I was lonely. I had no family, no home. It reminded me of those sunsets we used to watch on the back porch in our heyday, the orange sun setting the clouds ablaze in red undertones. In the quietest of times when I was craving you, I’d pretend we were back there, on that porch watching the sunset together. It made me feel a little closer to you.”</p>
<p>“Jesse,” she says, barely a whisper. Tears well in her eyes, streaming down her cheeks. In the weeks they’ve been back he’s never <em>once </em>revealed what life was like in his quiet moments and now, it’s as overwhelming as the sea in a storm. Oh, how she too longed to watch the same sunsets with him on those especially lonely days.</p>
<p>She wonders if they ever watched the same sunset, longing for each other while miles apart. It makes her entire chest ache.</p>
<p>A soft smile spreads on his lips as he swipes her tears away with his thumbs. “Now… Now I’ve got a home. I've got you, right here.” He presses a gentle kiss to her lips. “So I don’t need it.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Ashe says, voice breaking. She drops the serape on the bed and wraps her arms around his neck, holding him tight. Now it makes sense why he’s changed his look; the new clothes, the boots, the hair cut, the prosthetic. All were signs of a former life—a solitary life—that he’s since moved on from.</p>
<p>“Although…” he says. When the silence begins to stretch, she lets go of him and he pulls back, looking down at her with devilish eyes. “If you wanna keep using it in this way, sensation play and all, we can keep it. Make newer, <em> happier </em>memories with it."</p>
<p>Ashe grins. “Sounds like fun. It will need a wash, though.” She shifts the serape, eyeing the darkened patches and already drying slick all over it.</p>
<p>“That <em> and </em> the sheets.”</p>
<p>“These were new and everything.”</p>
<p>“And you’ve gone and immediately ruined them,” he says in mock chastisement. He slides a hand underneath her, resting on the base of her spine. She holds onto him tight, wrapping her legs around him as he lifts her up. He looks from the darkened patch left from her activities to her, a sly grin spreads on his lips.</p>
<p>“I'll have you know that I <em> didn’t </em>plan this. <em> If </em> I had, I wouldn’t have been in a rush changing them.”</p>
<p>Jesse hums, turning and sitting on the bed. He cups her face. “I love how spontaneous you can be.”</p>
<p>“I get a thought in my mind and run with it.” She shrugs playfully. “So what’re you doing home so early anyway? If I’d known you’d be here I would’ve waited.”</p>
<p>“We wrapped things up quicker than we’d expected.”</p>
<p>“Still, did you go to a bar? Have a drink? Have a chat?”</p>
<p>“We had a chat all right,” Jesse says, eyes widening like he’s recalling a traumatic memory. “Told me in <em>no </em>uncertain terms that if I leave you again, if I <em> hurt </em>you again, he’ll hunt me down and kill me. Slowly and painfully."</p>
<p>“Can’t blame him. He saw me through my worst days.” She sighs, meeting his somber eyes. “At least I had him.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Jesse clears his throat. “But no, we didn’t stop at a bar. Figured we could have a drink right here.”</p>
<p>Ashe levels him a flat stare. There’s something in his eyes, his airy tone that has her <em>knowing </em>that he’s hiding the truth. He might have been absent from her half her life and he might be different to that immature boy she remembers, but he’s still Jesse.</p>
<p>And all it takes is this little staredown to have him sighing and dramatically slumping in defeat. </p>
<p>“Fine, I missed you,” he mumbles.</p>
<p>A warm smile spreads on Ashe’s lips. <em> There’s </em>the truth. “I missed you too.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I can see,” he barks, glancing over his shoulder. “Glad I came home when I did.”</p>
<p>Ashe hums, eyeing her stains. “Would’ve jumped your bones the second you stepped through the door anyways.”</p>
<p>“See.” Jesse’s hands drop to her waist, his thumbs trace little circles against her skin; one warm, one cool and metallic. It sends a shiver cascading down her spine. “We can’t stand to be apart from each other.”</p>
<p>Huffing a laugh, Ashe leans in, pecking him on the lips. “I fucking love you.”</p>
<p>Jesse holds her tight, his chin hooks over her shoulder. She could stay like this forever, till the end of time, to the end of the world.</p>
<p>“I love you too,” Jesse whispers. "I love you too."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Three things: 1, don't rub gross fabrics against your genitals, 2, always pee after sex, and 3, wash your damn sheets. They're not role models smh.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm on <a href="https://twitter.com/BeanChillie">Twitter</a> and <a href="https://www.pillowfort.social/ChillieBean">PillowFort!</a> Come say hi!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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